


So Far, It's Not Working

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean return from their most recent hunt - A Djinn - to find that the one person who they thought was indestructible, had been killed.<br/>Castiel.<br/>Dean finds himself barely able to cope, drinking himself into a stupor.<br/>But is what he saw the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Far, It's Not Working

**Author's Note:**

> A/N working through writers block, and this was what came to mind. It's extremely angsty Jesus Christ... I did cry writing it, I am not ashamed! AU in which Castiel died. Jc I'm so sorry... I promise, no permanent deaths! all will be revealed though you probs got it from the summary xD
> 
> No major antagonists, no Abbadon, Metatron etc. Just casual hunting. Gabe and Kevin live in the Bunker.

Dean Winchester 

"See you back at the Bunker, Cas." Dean smiled at his Angel. Well, not his Angel. Dean was trying to work through this extremely blinding crush on him.

So far, it wasn't working.

"Of course, Dean." Cas returned the smile warmly. They'd asked for some help from him on their hunt, and the Wincehester's had called him from their motel room. Cas left.

The brothers left not too long after, finally being able to catch the Djinn.

Because they knew the base, it should have been a simple 'Kill the motherfucker', done and dusted.

And of course, Dean got jumped.

Fucking idiot.

* * *

It usually is Dean who gets jumped by Djinn. There was that time before Sam died, and then there was the time with Charlie. That counts. And now there was this.

It was fortunate that Sam got there not long after the thing put him under.

"Dean! Dude, wake up! Fuck, Dean!" Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he felt small rocks digging into his back.

"'Whus goin' on?" he asked, disoriented for a second. Sam sighed with relief.

"I ganked the Djinn, and found you in here. You okay? Did it put you under? Did you see anything?" Sam asked, too quick for Dean's dizzy mind to handle.

"Woah, slow down, Sammy! Give a guy a minute to recover, seriously. No, I didn't see anything, I don't think it put me under."

Sam helped him up onto his feet, and they traipsed back to the Impala. Dean was feeling stupidly tired, probably a concussion, so he let Sam drive, while he got some shut eye on the way to the Motel.

"Dean, we're back." Sam shook his brother awake. Dean grumbled at being woken up, but stood up anyway, walking behind his brother.

Sam turned the key in the lock, and was met with a completely dark room.

After flicking the lights on, they wished they hadn't. 

Covers and pillows were strewn all across the room, blood was on the carpet. Even one of the drawers had broken. 

Dean was too busy staring in shock at the sight of blood, that he almost didn't hear his brother desperately calling to him.

When he finally looked up, Sam was staring at him, eyes brimmed with tears. He was on his knees next to one of the beds, and that's when Dean saw it.

A blood soaked, still, trench coated Angel lay in the centre of the bed, a silver blade plunged into his stomach. His arms were spread wide, and the imprint of burnt wings spanned the room. Dean didn't know how he'd missed it.

"Cas?" he choked out, eyes filling with tears. He raced over the the side of the bed. "Cas! C'mon man, don't- don't do this!" Cas's face had slight, dried up tear tracks on them.

"Dean, he's gone..." Sam choked out. Dean glared at his brother, tears slipping wet and hot down his face. 

"He can't be. No! Where's the son of a bitch that did this?" he yelled, suddenly pissed, realising someone did this to Cas.

Swivelling, he caught side of a leg emerging from the bathroom. Dean raced over there, pulling a blade from his pocket as he went.

But the figure was already dead. Stabbed through the chest.

It seemed the - Demon? - got the drop on Cas, but stabbed him in the stomach first. It must've given Cas enough time to kill him.

But not enough time to live.

Dean threw the knife, aimed at nobody in particular, in complete anger.

Cas is dead. Castiel is dead.

My best friend.

My Angel.

Dead. 

Dean couldn't take it. He broke down. He hadn't broken down since Lucifer possessed Sam, and they failed in their plan.

But even then, he didn't allow himself more than a moment to sob. Now, he just let everything out.

Castiel had fucked up so many times for them. He was dead because of it.

Dean barely noticed Sam's restraining grip. He hadn't even noticed he'd become violent.

"Dean! Calm down! I'm sad too, I'm pissed too! But this isn't going to bring him back." Dean punched his brother in the chest, in attempt to relinquish his brother's hold, but it was a half hearted attempt.

"But - Cas! - he..." Sam nodded, still crying.

"I know, Dean. I know."

Dean broke away from his hold gently, and sauntered over to where Castiel lay, at peace.

Hesitantly, carefully, Dean reached for Cas's hand. In any other circumstance, perhaps the fact he was stone cold would have made him feel slightly less guilty.

Had he still been warm, then if they had gotten back earlier, perhaps moments, they could have saved him. But he was cold.

Maybe he'd been here since right after they left.

Maybe he was waiting for them, so he could share information.

They'd never know.

Sam put his hand on Dean's shoudler, as his body wracked with sobs

So far, it wasn't working.

* * *

Dean insisted on carrying Cas. They took him to a secluded part of the woods, where there was a clearing. Sam collected wood, branches, anything they could burn.

They had already wrapped a sheet around the son of a bitch that killed him. They'd dumped that fucker's body and lit it up, not giving two shits about him.

But Cas deserved a Hunter's funeral.

So as Sam collected the wood, Dean gently lay Cas's peaceful form on the sheet. He looked so... Pure, so blissful, that Dean almost convinced himself he was sleeping.

But Angels don't sleep.

So Dean let out a few more sobs.

Tears for the fact that he'd never hear Cas's grating voice again.

Tears for the realisation that he'd never jump a mile high when Cas fluttered behind him, and said, 'Hello, Dean' as a greeting. 

Tears because he'd never see Cas's confused face tilt, or his adorable squinting eyes.

Tears because Dean Winchester was in love with his best friend.

And now that friend was dead.

Because of him.

He wrapped the sheet tightly around the Angel. squeezing his eyes shut so less tears bled through.

"I'm so sorry, Castiel." he choked out.

Dean knew it was unhealthy. He was calling Cas by his full, Angelic name. He was disassociating himself from the Angel in an attempt to lessen the pain and guilt.

So far, it wasn't working.

* * *

The sheet and wood went up in flames. Sam cried quietly, occasional choked sobs leaking out.

Dean looked away as he cried. He could feel the heat from the flames against his tear soaked cheeks, and that only made him cry harder.

It's my fault. Maybe if we hadn't asked him for advice, he wouldn't have...

We should have gotten back earlier. Hell, maybe we shouldn't have left so soon!

They were the only thoughts crossing Dean's mind.

They were the only ones that mattered.

Sam gave him privacy after a while. Sam could read his brother like a book, so it was clear he needed alone time.

Dean sat on the grass.

He stayed long after the fire extinguished. Long after the temperature dropped slightly in warning of the coming night.

Long after the tears dried up on his cheeks.

Dean let himself become consumed by guilt. He knew he shouldn't. Logically, it probably wasn't his fault. Probably.

So after he'd cried all his tears, after the moon hung high, after the embers of the fire fizzled, Dean rose to his feet, and traipsed towards his Impala.

It had a much emptier feel to it, now there was no confused Angel in the backseat.

Dean tried to forget how many times Castiel had given the Impala a more homely feel with his presence.

So far, it wasn't working.

* * *

"Dean. C'mon, we're back." Sam shook his brother awake.

He jolted up, forgetting for a second what had happened the day before.

That second was bliss. And then the memories crashed onto him like an avalanche.

Dean winced, and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Sam looked at him, shocked, probably because of the treatment to Baby. Dean just shrugged him off, and entered the Bunker.

He went straight for the liquor cupboard, grabbing a full bottle of Whiskey.

Beer was too mild. He needed to get drunk. To forget everything to do with the Angel.

He saw Kevin and Gabe talking in the dining room as he passed it. They swivelled to face him and smiled broadly.

Dean just gave them a blank, empty stare in response, eliciting confused responses.

He went to his room to drink himself into a depressed stupor.

So far, it wasn't working

* * *

Dean got through a quarter of the bottle before Sam knocked on his door.

"Dinner's ready, Dean." 

"M'not hungry." he grunted out in reply, wanting to be left alone.

"Dean, I'm not going to let you just wallow in self pity, eat something." Dean stood up, pissed.

He flung the door open. "Fuck you, Sam. Leave me alone, just fucking go!" Sam looked taken aback, and opened and closed his mouth a few times before being able to reply.

"Dean, we're all worried about you. You acted like nobody was home." His tone grew softer. "Why don't you come and eat something?" he coaxed. "We can talk about-"

"Just fucking leave, Sam!" Dean yelled, slamming the door. He knew what Sam wanted to talk about, and he didn't want that. Dean heard a heavy sigh, and light footsteps walking away.

They returned a few moments later,before the slight scrape of a plate being put onto concrete.

"Please eat it, Dean." 

Dean opened the door, and stared down at the plate. It was a simple burger, not a proper meal, but not a greasy one found in old diners. He knew he'd have to eat it, to at least get Sam off his back, so he picked it up, and sat on the bed with it.

He bit at it, until there were only a few bites left. He washed it down with more Whiskey. He pushed the plate outside his door, leaving it for Sam .

Dean suddenly remembered how Cas had a craving for burgers during the Apocalypse. He smiled slightly, as the tearrs built up again.

He drank the Whiskey to drown out the memory,

So far, it wasn't working.

* * * 

The next morning, Dean managed to pass out from the Whiskey, but didn't get a hangover. He suspected that Gabriel was responsible for that.

There was a soft, hesitant knock on the door. It was too light to be Sam, and too polite to be Gabriel.

"Dean? It's Kevin." Dean grunted slightly, acknowledging that he was there. "Uhm, we're worried about you. We know that it has to be hitting you the hardest.." Dean just glared at the door.

"Sammy told you what happened?" he ground out. Kevin sighed.

"Dean, I know it's hard. It's practically killing Gabriel. We can talk to you about it. Help you." If Dean had had an empty bottle, he'd have thrown it at the door.

"Stop trying to fucking help me." he said instead.

"Okay, Dean." Kevin gave in too easily. He was planning something, Dean knew it. But he didn't care.

He ran out of Whiskey not long after, so he decided to get some beer. Anyway, maybe leaving the room would shut Sam up for a while. 

Quietly, he opened the door, trying not to arouse to much attention. That wouldn't work for long, he knew, but why not do it anyway? Put it off a bit.

Dean's face as he walked was entirely stoic. And then a thought struck him.

He never said 'Goodbye,' to Cas.

No, not just... Now. But every time Dean lost his Angel, there was never a 'Goodbye'. 

When Raphael struck him down, Dean wasn't there to say goodbye.

When Lucifer blew him up, he didn't get the chance to say goodbye.

When the Leviathan's forced Castiel to drown, Dean could barely think straight.

And when he lost Cas in Purgatory, after getting out...

That's what hit him the hardest.

One second, Dean was stood stock still, the next, the Whiskey bottle he held in his hand had shattered in a loud smash against the wall.

Tears anew ran down his face, He threw his fist into the wall, cutting open his knuckles from the force. He banged them against the wall a few more times before sliding to the floor, holding his bloody knuckles aainst his tear stricken face.

Quick footsteps approached him, and Dean didn't even need to look to know it was Gabriel. He felt the gentle press of a hand on his, and he didn't feel the pain from his knuckles anymore. Gabe had healed them.

When he lifted his gaze to the Arch-Angel, Gabriel's eyes were red, and puffy, as though he was also recently crying. Dean smiled weakly.

"'S hard." Gabriel nodded.

"It really is hitting you the hardest Dean." His voice was quiet, and sensitive, but it still angered Dean. "We're all... We can all help."

Dean just snarled. "It's my fuckin' fault he's dead, so go fuck yourself. Don't give me any of that Psychobabble shit, go cuddle with Sam, and talk about your fucking feelings, asshole!"

Dean rose to his feet, and strode to where the beer was kept. he took a whole six pack, so he could drink the day away.

Gabriel stood exactly where he left him, wide eyed, tiny tears dripping out.

Dean tried not so feel so guilty for snapping at someone who'd just lost his brother.

So far, it wasn't working.

* * *

Dean's door knocked several times a day for over a week. Each time a different knock. Each time, Dean didn't acknowledge it, and drank more beer.

He got steadily drunker, and should have been cursed with extreme hangovers and the thick, musty smell of beer, but nope. Every morning he woke up, fresh as a daisy, no bottles in sight.

Wasn't a total loss, Dean thought. At least that meant he could drink the day away yet again.

And then, after two weeks of being an anti-social asshole, there was a new knock at the door. Gentle, rhythmic, hesitant. It was similar to Kevin's, but there was something different.

"Dean?" A female voice. Dean scoffed. "You probably got that already, but it's Charlie."

Deciding he couldn't bitch at Charlie, he stumbled forward and opened the door for her. She blinked in surprise, either not expecting him to open up, or that he looked worse than she thought.

Her face crumpled in sorrow, and pity, and she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. Dean staggered backwards under her weight, but stayed upright.

"Charlie, what-?" She cut him off, babbling, tears shinign in her eyes.

"Sam wanted me to come down. He, uh, sent Gabriel down to zap me here. I'm so sorry, Dean!"

She broke off from his grip, and shut the door, and sat with a plop on th end of his bed. Charlie looked at him expectantly.

Dean was slightly tipsy, so he didn't exactly get the memo. "What?" he asked, exasperated. A new wave of tears threatened to spill over.

She rolled her eyes. "You, Dean Winchester, are going to tell me, why you've been moping around your room for two weeks." She sounded so stubborn, so matter of fact, that Dean gazed at her, completely shocked.  
"I'm waiting."

Dean starting crying again, something he would adamantly deny if she ever brought the subject up again. Dean was known for his, 'I am one hundred percent straight, and hate Chick Flick moments with a burning passion,' act.

So Dean fell onto the bed, rested his head on his hands and cried. He hadn't cried for a few days. He'd been too drunk, too numb, to cry.

"I love him, Charlie."

That was all he had to say, because Charlie converged on him. Her arms were back around his neck, rubbing his back soothingly.

"But why-" he sniffled. "Why did I wait until.. This, before I realised it?" Charlie didn't reply. She knew if she let him speak, he wouldn't worry about his 'masculinity' as he might have before.  
"Fucking hell, I think I've loved him for years. I should have fucking said something. He's died for us before, and I've never... I haven't..."

"It's okay, Dean. I understand."

"No, no you don't!" he pushed her a way, and leaned against his headboard.

"How long will it be before I forget the sound of his voice?" he asked, softly, eyes closed. "How long, before I let myself forget? How long, before I stop hearing the sound of his fucking wings, before I stop turning and hoping to fucking God he's there?"  
Charlie was openly crying now, and she'd never even met Castiel.

"How long before I stop wanting to shoot myself in the head?"

At this point, Charlie stopped crying, and gave him a serious, angry look. She slapped him in the face.

He recoiled in shock, sobering. "What the fuck?"

"Dean fucking Winchester, I expected better from you! Don't you dare go blaming yourself! I mean, Sam said you might, but I didn't really think for one second..."  
Dean glared at her. "That gun in my fucking drawer's been looking pretty good to me this past week!"

"Dean! For God's sake, do you want me to send Sam in here? I will tell him what you said, he'll take your guns, and you will not do shit like that!"

"I'm fucking tired, Charlie! Everyone, I've ever loved, dies. Mom died. Dad died, Sam's died three fucking times. Cas has died four fucking times. For me. Do you know what it fucking feels like to have that on your conscience?"  
He sighed shakily, and Charlie's face melted into one of sadness once again.

"Dean... None of that has ever been your fault." He smiled weakly.

"Commitment issues, y'know? Didn't want anyone hurt cause of me. Never worked. Lisa, Anna.... Cas. I've put that gun to my head four times. Not once have I pulled the trigger. Next time, I might."

Charlie's face contorted in horror. "No! Fucking hell, no!" She hurtled to his drawer, and pulled out his gun. "You stay right here, I hate to be a tattle tale, but this is not fucking healthy, Dean!"  
Dean shut his eyes, and waited for her retreating footsteps. After he was sure she was gone, he chuckled slightly to himself, despite how stupid it was.

"She took the unloaded one." 

He reached under his pillow, and cocked it against his temple. He blew out a low breath, before shakily saying,

"Let's find out if Angels have their own Heaven."

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Oh my God, Dean, thank God!" came a frantic, relieved voice from above him. Dean jolted up so quickly he almost hit the person's chin. "Dude! What the hell?"

Dean shifted his glance across the entire room. In the corner, a crumpled heap lay, which Dean assumed was a Djinn.

Djinn! The fucker put him under!

"Sammy?" His brother smiled.

"Uhh, yeah?" Dean shot to his feet, and threw his arm around his taller brother. Surprised, Sam let out a breathy laugh, and patted him on the back. "You went under, didn't you?"

Dean didn't answer, pulling away. he looked Sam right in the eyes, and obviously he looked entirely hysteric, because Sam's face contorted in worry. 

"Where's Cas?" he demanded, adamant. He'd spent two metaphysical weeks living out Cas's death scenario, he needed to know Cas was alive.

Sam gave him an odd look. "At the Bunker...?" he said slowly. Dean marginally relaxed.

"Cas! You fucker, come on!" Sam flinched.

"Dean, what the hell-" 

He was cut off by the fluttering of invisible wings. Cas's face was tilted with confusion and worry.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean stared at him for a few seconds. His breathing increased, and he probably looked like he was about to cry. But he didn't care.

Castiel was alive.

Dean shot over to him, and, before Sam or Cas could say anything, Dean pressed his lips insistently over Cas''s. His arms wrapped around teh Angel's midsection, pulling him close, not wanting to let go.

After initially recoiling from shock, Cas kissed back, mimicking a passion he didn't know the cause of.

Sam made an indignant noise behind them, and they pulled apart. Yet again, before anyone could say anything, he enveloped Castiel into a bone crunching hug.

"Don't do that again." Dean mumbled. Cas rubbed his back, comfortingly.

"I won't." he promised, even though he had no idea what he was promising.

Sam made another indignant noise. "Okay, explain."  
Dean sighed, exasperated. "The Djinn put me under. There, it was about two weeks." Sam grinned.

"So, you and Cas had a honeymoon time in your Dream World?" he guessed. He couldn't have been further off the mark.

"Cas died."

Both Cas and Sam blanched. Sam's smile dropped, and he hastily apologised. 

"Jesus, Dean, I'm so sorry. I thought Djinn sent you to your happy place." Dean shrugged. Cas interjected then.  
"There is one form of Djinn that feeds off of the grief of their prey. It is more than twenty times rarer than average Djinn, it is unfortunate Dean handled this one."

An awkward silence filled the room then. Dean occupied himself by studying Cas's slightly flushed face, and smiling softly.

"We better get you two lovebirds back to the Bunker, before Dean jumps your bones." Sam announced, getting slightly irritated.

Dean smiled at his Angel. Sam wandered off then, giving them a moment off privacy, before they actually left.  
Dean let a few small tears slide down his face. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" Dean hesitated slightly.

"I... I love you."

Cas's face softened. "I love you too, Dean."

They grinned widely at each other, and set off towards the Impala, fingers linked together.

Maybe, Dean thought, I can forget what happened in there. I can be happy with Castiel.

 

And so far, it seems to be working.

**Author's Note:**

> FINISHED! Yay! Needed something to get out of my writer's block, and I needed angst for some reason, with a fluffy ending. :D hope you enjoyed!
> 
> How The Angels Sing is discontinued for a while. Deleted off both accounts, as I can't get some of the plot right. On the plus side, I may be working on another full length Destiel fic....
> 
> Whoops.


End file.
